


20 Days (of you and me)

by guety



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Victuuri Big Bang 2017, bc communication is good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guety/pseuds/guety
Summary: The start of Yuuri and Victor's life together in St. Petersburg isn't what either of them was expecting but, in a way, it's perfect





	20 Days (of you and me)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry to the Viktuuri Reverse Bang 2017! I created it together with my artist partner cheekpouches (go check her tumblr!). Many, many thanks to janewrites for being my beta and helping a lot!!! And special thanks to niedolia for checking the cultural bits! Finally super many thanks to the lovely mod of the event katsukifatale for hosting it <3
> 
> This fic is a bit different to what I'm used to write, the idea I claimed called for some slice of life and character introspection, but I loved writing it. It hope you guys enjoy~~

_16 days before moving in: December 11th_

From the moment Victor said he would continue coaching him while still returning to competition, Yuuri had known that meant moving to Russia. The only coach that worked for Victor was Yakov, and Yakov refused to leave St. Petersburg, as he made very clear when the three of them sat down to discuss what to do from then on.

“You're not the only skater I coach, Vitya.” He stated.

“Ah, but I’m your favorite, aren't I?” Victor replied playfully.

Favorite or not, Yakov welcomed Victor to train under him again and allowed him to coach Yuuri on his rink as well, and for that Yuuri was grateful.

 

_12 days before moving in: December 15th_

Yuuri didn’t mind the moving itself. Going to Detroit when he was only 18 and barely spoke any English had been hard; the city seemed way too big and loud compared to his small hometown in Japan, he didn't know anyone there and could barely communicate with his rink mates, and it wasn't until his second year in the city that Phichit started training under Celestino as well. In comparison, going to St. Petersburg knowing that Victor and Yurio would be there had seemed much less terrifying. The exact details of where he would move into, however, proved to be a source of conflict.

Victor wanted Yuuri to move into his apartment; in fact, he had assumed he would without even asking.

“But living together would be more practical!” Victor had said several times over the course of the past two days, since they came back to Hasetsu together to gather their things and prepare for the move. “My place is close to the rink and more than big enough for two men and a poodle, you're not going to find anything as good in a such a short notice.” He was telling the truth, and Yuuri knew. “Besides, if you live with me, you won't have to pay rent. The place is mine after all.”

“Of course I’ll pay rent!” Yuuri stated, as he had been doing every time the topic was brought up. “If I move in with you,” he quickly added, “I still think I should try to live on my own.”

“But I haven't paid rent to your parents in the entire year.” 

“You said we should consider that as part of your coaching fee,” was Yuuri's studied rebuttal. In fact, he and Victor had never really discussed coaching fees, besides letting him live with them and feeding him three daily meals.

“I just want to live with you,” Victor usually said when the argument reached that point, and the way his voice wavered slightly and his smile dropped was almost enough to make Yuuri relent every time. Usually, the conversation ended there with Yuuri promising Victor to think about it, Victor saying he would respect his decision, and both of them resuming their packing while avoiding talking about the details.

This time, however, Yuuri replied “I want to live together too.” He knew he was hurting Victor, even if he couldn't completely understand why. Of course he wanted to continue living with Victor, more than anything. He had gotten used to spending every day with him, eating together, bathing together and, since shortly after the Cup of China, sleeping in the same bed half of the days as well. But Victor had accepted to continue coaching him while going back to competition, and Yuuri wasn’t naive enough to not realize how much of a sacrifice that was. He would have to work on Yuuri’s programs as well as his own, would have to supervise Yuuri’s training every day, skating choreographies side by side with him, then go and practise his own. Coaching was a full time job on itself, combining it with competing would be exhausting even for Victor. “But you’re already dedicating a lot of your time to coach me,” he tried to explain, “I don’t want to be a burden at your own house too.”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, pressing both of his hands on firmly on Yuuri's shoulders. “You're not a burden or an inconvenience, ever.” He kissed Yuuri on the lips, soft but lingering. “You’d be doing me a favor, I hate doing the dishes and sleeping alone.” 

They looked at each other for a short moment, soft smiles on their faces, before Victor spoke again. “I love you and it would make me incredibly happy if you moved in with me.” It was raw and honest, and it completely disarmed Yuuri.

“I’ll still pay for half of the expenses.” He stated weakly.

“If you insist."

“And your coaching fees…”

“The only fee I need is a gold medal.” Victor promptly interrupted. “You can pay that, can’t you?” The wink he gave was playful, but the challenge was there and real, and it fired Yuuri up.

 

_9 days before moving in: December 18th_

Their respective National Championships took place on the same dates - Christmas week - so it was impossible for Victor to both accompany Yuuri as coach and compete at the same time. Yuuri hadn’t even entertained the idea of one of them skipping that competition. Even if their federations might still send them to Worlds - after all, Yuuri had won Silver at the GPF and Victor was the living legend of Russia - Yuuri wanted to do things properly. He wasn’t going to become a burden on Victor’s career, and if Victor was going to make a comeback, he had to go all or nothing. He knew neither of them wanted otherwise.

So Victor had gone back to Russia alone to train with Yakov, and Yuuri stayed in Hasetsu until it was time for him to go to Osaka to compete at the All Japan Figure Skating Championships. He had been working his ass off all week, with the help of Minako and the Nishigoris. Yuuri was spurred by his past failures. He had to redeem the blunder from the previous year and get the gold medal he owed Victor. In his heart, he knew Victor would accept him in his house no matter how he performed. He understood Victor got as much from coaching him as Yuuri did, but his mind refused to accept it so easily. He needed to prove himself that he deserved everything that Victor was offering him.

 

_3 days before moving in: December 24_

When the announcer called his name and he entered the ice to perform his Free Skate, Yuuri was ready. All doubts were erased from his mind.

Even if Victor wasn’t there, he was watching; Yuuri was sure of that, the same way he had stayed up to watch Victor's short program the previous night. He kissed his ring and got into his starting position.

 

_Day 1: December 27_

Victor was waiting for him at the airport, just like when Yuuri returned home from the Rostelecom Cup, and just like that time they melted into a tight embrace.

“Makkachin is waiting at home,” Victor murmured between kisses along the crook of Yuuri’s neck. “He’s missed you. I missed you too,” He grabbed Yuuri’s face between his hands, softly caressing along the sides as if to ascertain that the was there, tangible and real. “So much, Yuuri.”

The airport was busy at that hour, and people were looking, but Yuuri leaned forward and kissed Victor his all his might, grabbing the front of his sweater. “Happy birthday,” He breathed against Victor’s lips. “Sorry I’m late.”

Victor laughed. “It was worth the wait.” He hugged Yuuri tightly once more. “I watched you perform, you were beautiful, sublime. You’re the best student I could ever have.”

“I watched you too,” Yuuri confessed. He closed his eyes and inhaled Victor’s scent, a mix of expensive cologne and something inherent to him that Yuuri couldn’t identify. “You were incredible.”

“I only got silver,” He lamented, although he didn’t seem upset at all.

“I can’t believe you choreographed that in less than two weeks, you’re way too good, Victor”

“It’ll look much better by Worlds, after I refine it a bit,” Victor moved to Yuuri’s side, passing an arm around his shoulders to lead him towards the airport exit, and gave him his best smile. “I still intend to make you win, though, but as a fellow competitor I won’t go easy on you.”

Yuuri leaned on him. “That’s how you show your love, right?” They looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same time, not paying any mind to the people around them.

Victor’s apartment was located just south of the Moyka river, close to Nevsky Prospect, barely a half an hour ride from Pulkovo Airport. Much to Yuuri’s surprise, Victor had come to pick him up on his own car, a small and practical yet fancy model. Yuuri didn’t know Victor owned a car; he hadn’t even expected him to have a driver’s license and if he had to be honest, after witnessing his skills for thirty minutes, he didn’t think he deserved to either. He took note to not let Victor give him a ride ever again, it would probably be wiser to just stick to the subway from then on. 

Once Yuuri had let Makkachin jump on him and thoroughly lick his face, and after taking a much needed shower, he finally got his medal out of his suitcase. Without saying anything, he put it around Victor’s neck, and took a step back to look at him. Victor took it in his hand, the gold glimmer perfectly matching his ring. “Just what I wanted.” He murmured, and put his lips to it.

 

_Day 2: December 28_

St. Petersburg wasn’t as cold as Yuuri had expected. There wasn’t that big of a difference compared to Detroit, and Victor’s apartment had central heating and was much better insulated than Yuuri and Phichit’s old dorm room. In fact, his first night could only be described as warm. Exhausted and jet-lagged from the long trip, he had gone to bed early, and Victor - who was a morning person - and Makkachin followed suit. As it turned out, even if it was a negative 15ºC outside, it was hard to feel cold when you shared a bed with a grown man and a poodle, and Yuuri had been so tired he fell asleep immediately, Victor’s arms loosely wrapped around him.

The first morning had been much harder. In winter, St. Petersburg didn’t get many hours of daylight, so when Victor woke him up, it was completely dark outside. Yuuri tried to hide inside the covers, but Victor grabbed him firmly.

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” he sing-songed. Yuuri’s reply was a guttural sound that he hoped sounded very aggressive, but Victor just laughed in return. “I made breakfast,” he added. That got Yuuri’s attention. He couldn’t remember Victor even attempting to make a piece of toast in all the time they had been together in Hasetsu, so the concept of him preparing breakfast for Yuuri was intriguing. “And if we hurry, we’ll have a couple of hours to ourselves in the rink before everyone else gets there.” If the promise of homemade breakfast had almost been enough to make Yuuri consider leaving the bed, the mention of the rink definitely woke him up. He hadn’t been able to skate the past two days, and it made him feel restless. He couldn’t wait to see the rink where Victor had trained since he was a child, to feel that ice beneath him. 

Victor’s best attempt at a “traditional Russian breakfast” included fried eggs with some kind of strange sausage he called _kolbasa_ , porridge, and two big mugs of coffee. The porridge was insipid since he didn’t allow Yuuri to add any kind of sweetener to it, but as a whole the meal was surprisingly good.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” he commented distractedly while munching his eggs, still half asleep. 

“I can cook a few dishes,” Victor replied, in that same proud yet matter-of-factly way he used when he spoke of any of his accomplishments.

“Hmm really? What’s your best one?”

“Beef stroganoff, I can make it for you if you want.” There was a silly, excited smile on his face, a similar expression to whenever Yuuri proposed a way to upgrade the difficulty of his program, as if the prospect of cooking him dinner was enough to make his day. Makkachin was on the floor, next to Yuuri’s chair, wiggling his tail happily. It felt too domestic all of sudden. He became strangely aware that it was only the two (three) of them there, without Yuuri’s family and the onsen’s visitors roaming around.

“Um, okay.” He said awkwardly.

“We’ll have to stop by the market and buy good ingredients, then!” He clapped his hands. Yuuri thought that Victor was getting a bit overexcited for such a small thing as making dinner, but still couldn't help but smile at seeing him in such good spirits. “Alright, we should get going, rink is reserved from 9 to 12. I let you oversleep today, but from tomorrow on we wake up at 7 for a morning run before breakfast, alright?” 

“Yes, sir!” Yuuri gulped down the rest of his coffee. Being in Victor’s apartment was strange; he didn’t feel like he belonged there yet. It smelled different from his house, he didn’t know where anything was, and it was all Victor’s things around since Yuuri’s belongings were all still packed and he hadn’t been able to bring much with him to begin with. Getting back to business was comforting. He felt at home when he was on the ice, no matter where in the world the rink was located. 

Team Yakov’s home rink was only a 10 minutes subway trip from Victor’s place - Victor had suggested it would take even less by car, but Yuuri downright refused to let him drive. Victor had looked offended at the implication that he wasn’t a good driver, but dealing with his hurt ego was better than risking an accident. On the way, they discussed their training regime for the following months: Yuuri would train privately with Victor three hours every day, 6 days a week, early in the morning; and in the afternoon Victor would practice under Yakov, while Yuuri could join them during the first hour for basic exercises. Evenings were reserved for off ice training, allowing some time to relax as well. All in all, it was a well thought and quite intensive schedule. He couldn’t help but worry about Victor again; Yuuri would be able to rest while Victor was training, but Victor would spend in total seven to eight hours on the ice every day between coaching and practicing. He couldn’t help but wonder if he really was doing the right thing. Maybe he should have retired, let Victor make a comeback without any hindrances. Then, Victor took his hand as they navigated their way through the subway station, and he pushed his anxiety away. He wanted to be there. Victor wanted him there. He knew in his head that both statements were true, and that was all that mattered.

 

_Day 3: December 29th_

Yuuri yawned, stretching on the sofa. He was still jet-lagged, which usually translated into him being sleepy all day. Makkachin, who was curled on his lap, yawned with him. It felt weird being in the apartment without Victor, so he was glad that at least he had the poodle with him. He had tried to stay at the rink and watch team Yakov’s practice,  but Victor had forbidden it.

“You’re still tired, and that shows up in your technique,” he had said. “So go home and rest, this is an order from your coach.” Victor had been smiling, but Yuuri knew just how serious he was, so he relented without complaining.

Despite his fatigue, practice was going quite well so far. Victor wasn’t cutting him any slack, making him train hard and focusing on all his weak points without allowing him to practice any of the spins and movements that came more easily to him. It drained his stamina, but it was rewarding to see how much he had improved compared to the previous year.

Although Victor had forbidden him to watch his practice for the time being, Yuuri had had the chance to meet all the other skaters training under Yakov. Truth be told, he knew most of them from one competition or another - and, of course, one of them was Yurio - but they had never been properly introduced. Despite him being the only foreigner training at the rink, they had been nothing but friendly to him, giving him a tour of the facilities, telling him places to eat at that were close to the rink and introducing him to all the staff. And most importantly, they had been careful to speak English when he was in front of them. Yuuri didn’t even know how to properly express how grateful he was that they had welcomed him with open arms, when he had been expecting them to be annoyed that he was taking space on their rink.

Yuuri shifted, gently taking Makkachin out of his lap and guiding him to sit on the couch so he could use his laptop. He opened his browser and typed “Russian classes for foreigners St. Petersburg” in the search bar. Even if everyone at the rink had been nice, he didn’t want them to have to accommodate to him all the time. Besides, he would live in St. Petersburg at least until Victor’s retirement, whenever that happened, so it would be handy to be able to ask for directions or do some shopping on his own. He had taken Russian classes for a couple of years while in university and could read the Cyrillic letters, but he was nowhere near fluent; in fact, his accent was so terrible that he was too embarrassed to let native speakers hear it. Plus, he was quite rusty; it had been more than a year since he had last had a lesson. He figured, if this wasn’t the perfect moment to try and get back to it, when would it be? After all, he would have a few hours to himself every day while Victor trained, why not use them for something productive?

He browsed some sites, comparing prices and schedules and, once he thought he had found something that suited his needs, took a deep breath and called to make an appointment. He smiled to himself, wondering if Victor would be surprised.

 

_Day 4: December 30th_

Sennoy Market was a vibrant place full of displays of colorful vegetables and fruits, the air thick with the mixed smell of several spices, and vendors of various nationalities shouting in an attempt to attract customers. Despite the cold, it was completely crowded, making Yuuri feel swallowed in a sea of people, many of them taller than him. For a Japanese person he was above average height, but he almost felt tiny there.

“Stay close to me,” Victor said cheerfully, taking his hand, “This is the best place to get good groceries at a cheap price!” Yuuri smiled. The place was a bit overwhelming, but he could tell that Victor was in a good mood and so was he, so he tried to enjoy the experience. As they walked through the stalls, he paid attention to the tags that informed the customers of the price of each product and attempted to memorize the words by associating them with what they represented. He guessed “яблоки” meant “apples”, “виноград” was “grapes”, “свекла” meant “beets”, and so on so forth, but ultimately there were so many new words that he kept forgetting what he had just learnt. Victor guided him to the stalls he wanted to visit and handled the shopping, asking for Yuuri’s opinion from time to time. Yuuri listened closely to his conversations with the vendors, but they talked way too fast for him to follow, and he could only catch some words every now and then, things like “beef” and “how much?”. It wasn’t much, but his English hadn't been better when he moved to Detroit and if that hadn’t stopped him then, it wouldn’t stop him now.

Later that evening, Yuuri was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, watching as Victor chopped an onion.

“You have a deeper voice when you speak Russian,” he observed, unpromptedly. He had noticed earlier at the market, but hadn’t had the chance to tell Victor.

“Do I?” Victor asked distractedly.

Yuuri made an affirmative noise.

“In a sexy way?” He looked at Yuuri over his shoulder and winked.

“Hmm, I wonder about that…” Yuuri replied playfully.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Victor returned to chopping vegetables and putting them in a pan, humming along. “I hope it tastes good,” he said while stirring the ingredients, “I haven't cooked beef stroganoff in a long time.”

“Isn’t it your best dish?”

“Well, it was,” Victor wiped his hands on a paper towel and set the stove to medium heat, leaving the ingredients to simmer. “But cooking just for myself feels a bit pointless, so I haven’t cooked much the past few years.” He said it nonchalantly, but he wasn't making eye contact and his voice felt strained. It suddenly dawned in Yuuri that Victor rarely talked about his personal life before they met, and when he did it was mostly about his younger years. He didn’t recall Victor ever talking about the most recent past, outside of events directly related to skating. There had been times before when he had thought that Victor’s smile was a bit stiff and he had a lonely look on his eyes, but it always lasted only for a split second. He had understood that Victor was a human being with weaknesses months ago, when he started seeing him more like a person and less like a god, but it wasn’t until that moment that the weight and nature of such vulnerabilities were truly clear to him.

Slowly, he got up and got closer to Victor, gently putting a hand on his arm. “Victor…” He started, unsure of what to say.

Victor smiled at him. “But now you’re here so I better relearn everything, since you’re such a good eater!” He tried to tickle Yuuri’s tummy, but Yuuri wiggled away. 

“That’s right, I’m here now and I’m used to my mum’s excellent cuisine.” He grabbed the hand Victor was using to try to tickle him and intertwined their fingers. “So you better be a good cook because I’m not going anywhere.” He forced himself to look at Victor’s eyes instead of looking away, and hoped he wasn’t just imposing himself on Victor.

He was glad he chose to not avert his gaze, because he would have regretted missing the way Victor’s expression dissolved into a soft smile. “Okay, Yuuri. I’ll try my best, as your coach as well as your boyfriend.” He gave Yuuri a tender kiss on the forehead, and Yuuri hugged him tightly. Victor hugged him back, all warm around Yuuri. They stood in silence for a short while, just enjoying the embrace, until Victor pulled apart slightly. “I should pay attention to the pot, or I’ll burn our dinner and that would be a very poor start to my career as your personal chef,” he said, making Yuuri smile.

As it turned out, not only did Victor not burn the food, he actually managed to make it taste great, even though he made an absolute mess of the kitchen.

 

_Day 6: January 1st_

“You barely drank tonight.” It was that awkward hour between very late at night and very early in the morning; the year had just started and the street was completely empty except for the occasional little group of drunk people going from one party to the next. They had been having dinner at Lilia’s house, along with the rest of Yakov’s skaters whose families were far away from the city. It had been a small homely celebration. Yuuri had had a good time joking with the other skaters and enjoying Yakov’s surprisingly delicious cold salads, despite the faint, lingering feeling that he didn’t belong there.

Victor made an affirmative humming sound distractedly, like he hadn’t stopped to think about that. Yuuri looked at him. Somehow, he had expected things to be different in Russia. Not better or worse, just not the same as they were back in Hasetsu. However, in many ways they were. He still practiced hard every day, and Victor still pushed him and praised him at equal parts. They spent most of the day together, just like they used to do in Japan, and had more or less the same conversations. Victor was the same, handsome and charming, forgetful and capricious, affectionate and creative. He gave belly rubs to Makkachin, complained about his own hair and made Yuuri laugh. And yet, he had changed. He barely ate sweets anymore and, it just dawned on Yuuri, he had quit alcohol almost entirely. In Hasetsu, he often stayed up drinking with Minako or Nishigori, and he insisted on trying all the different varieties of candy in the convenience store. Now, while he didn’t follow a diet as strict as Yuuri’s, he was obviously watching his health. It was silly, he had been watching him train for a week already, but it wasn’t until that moment that Yuuri was fully aware that Victor was back to being a competitor, with all that it implied.

 

_Day 8: January 3rd_

Yuuri never was a morning person, and having to wake up when it was completely dark outside didn't help at all. He missed Japan’s early dawns, that helped him feel awake enough even when all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Makkachin did his best to lick his face every morning until he got out of the bed, and Victor took great efforts to prepare strong, excellent coffee every day, as well as tasty and nutritious breakfasts after their daily run, but nothing really worked. It wasn't until he stepped onto the ice that he could finally shake the last remnants of sleep from his body.

 

_Day 9: January 4_

It was late in the evening, after they had finished dinner and both had taken a shower. They were sitting on the couch; Yuuri was on the left side, his elbow planted on the armrest and resting his face on his palm while he used an app on his smartphone to learn Russian vocabulary. Victor was sitting beside Yuuri, leaning slightly on him while reading a book, Makkachin sprawled and taking up the other half of the couch. It was relaxing; they had chosen a collection of piano sonatas to play in the background, low enough that it wasn’t distracting. It had been little over a week since they moved in together, but it was starting to become a routine for unwinding after the long day of practice, just being together. Usually Victor read while Yuuri studied, although from time to time Victor brushed up some Japanese vocabulary too. He was terrible at reading kanji, but he had picked up good conversation skills just from talking to people while he was living in Hasetsu, and he had told Yuuri he didn’t want to lose them. 

From time to time, Yuuri had to ask Victor the difference between two words that seemed the same to him, or inquire on the correct way to pronounce them, Victor doing his best to help every time.

“Yuuri,” Victor called his name after a while. 

“Yes, Victor?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time, but isn’t it about time you start calling me Vitya?” He shifted a little, and looked up at Yuuri. “I mean, you totally have my permission, if that's what you're waiting for!” He flashed a wide smile.

Yuuri took his eyes away from his phone to look at him, taken aback. “Isn't that too informal? You're my coach after all, and you're older than me.”

“Four years don't make a big difference,” Victor frowned, “and I'm more than just your coach, aren't I?" 

“Yes, but,” Yuuri bit his lip, trying to find the words he was looking for, “it’s a bit embarrassing,” He decided to omit that he used to call him Vitya in his teenage fantasies, and now it felt too weird. 

“Embarrassing how?” Victor straightened, separating a bit from Yuuri. “It is my name.”

“I know, but…” He trailed off, unsure of why he was so reluctant. He knew in Russia informal names were used between couples, family and friends, it was the common practice, but he couldn't help but feel strange using it. He had never been in a relationship before and never had someone to be so familiar with, apart from his childhood friends and Phichit.

“Should I call you ‘Yuuri-kun’ then?” Victor asked 

That took Yuuri by surprise. There were people who called him that, mostly those who had known him since he was young, like Yuuko, but it felt completely out of place in Victor's voice. “What? Why?” 

“Isn't that how a teacher would call his student?” It was obvious that he was a bit annoyed, which meant this was important to him.

“I guess…” Yuuri admitted, although in general a teacher would use the last name, but Victor calling him ‘Katsuki-kun’ sounded horrifyingly distant and just weird.

“I'd like you to call me Vitya,” Victor continued in a low voice, “People calling you by your formal name all the time is exhausting.”

“But everyone in the rink apart from Yakov calls you Victor,” Yuuri observed. Victor’s expression suddenly darkened, and Yuuri immediately knew he had said the wrong thing.

“I’m aware of that.” Victor replied. He kept his voice neutral, but shifted closer to Makkachin, stroking his fur. There were barely 5 centimeters between their bodies, yet it seemed as if an chasm had just opened and there was an insurmountable distance separating them. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees. 

The past few days, Yuuri had realized that Victor wasn't close to any of his rinkmates. It wasn't like they weren't friendly to him and it was obvious they all respected him at least as a skater, but he could tell no one there considered him a friend. Most of them were much younger than him, and those with similar ages like Georgi just weren't close to him. They were comrades, but not friends. Even Yurio was more of a rebellious younger brother. During training sessions, that didn't seem to affect Victor at all, but now it was obvious it was bothering him.

Yuuri bit his lip. He knew he often failed miserably at understanding how other people felt, and he was under the impression that this was one of those times. He remembered the conversation about the beef stroganoff the other day, how Victor had said he didn't cook anymore because he had nobody to make food for, and tried to recall what he had learned about Russian traditions regarding names. Maybe he couldn't relate completely, being from a different culture, but he could understand that it was important for Victor. Victor, the man he was in love with, who was willing to compete and coach at the same time because he couldn't bear being apart from him, because whatever medals Yuuri won as his pupil were as rewarding as the ones he won himself.

He took a deep breath. “You're right, sorry, Vitya.” He couldn't help but blushing a little, and hoped he hadn't butchered the pronunciation. Victor’s face lightened up instantly, and he jumped closer, the tension between them dissipated in an instant.

“Yuuri! Thank you!” He cupped his cheeks and kissed him

“When in Russia, do as Russians do, right? But you're still Coach Victor in interviews and formal occasions.” He really couldn't imagine calling him Vitya in front of thousands of viewers.

“Okay!” Victor giggled, “Really, thank you Yuuri,” another kiss, “say it again." 

“Vitya,” he repeated, “am I even saying it right?”

“Perfect,” he moved closer to Yuuri, sitting on his lap, “you're perfect, Yuuri. Have I told you that lately?”

“Hmm,” he kissed Victor, slowly, “I don't think so, maybe you need to refresh my memory.”

“You're perfect,” Victor said once more, kissing Yuuri on his forehead, “beautiful,” a peck on the cheek, “amazing,” a brush of nose against nose, “just wonderful.”

Yuuri sighed, sliding a hand under Victor's t-shirt to feel the muscles on his back. He loved the praise; it was one of those things he had never confessed out loud yet Victor simply knew. They kissed, slow and measured, the kind of kiss that was intended to lead somewhere. Victor’s hands caressed the sides of Yuuri's neck, tracing a lazy line over his spine; Yuuri pulled him closer and changed the angle of his head to go for a deeper kiss. Victor’s tongue brushed against the roof of Yuuri's mouth, they pressed their bodies against each other, impossibly close, Yuuri felt himself heating up. They broke apart just slightly, looking at each other, catching their breaths.

And then Victor yawned.

He immediately covered his hand with his mouth. “I’m sorry!” His pale skin made the blush covering his cheeks and ears all the more apparent, “I promise you’re not boring me." 

“You're exhausted,” Yuuri stated. Of course he was. Victor had kept exercising regularly during his stay in Hasetsu, but not with the same intensity as an elite athlete aiming at the World Championships as he was now, and his body was still getting used to the current level of effort after the long break. Not to mention, he spent three hours every day coaching Yuuri, which also involved demonstrating jumps and going through the choreography with him. He had said his stamina wasn't as good as Yuuri's on a few occasions before, but Yuuri thought what he was doing was quite impressive. “Let's go to bed.”

Victor pouted. “But I like what we were doing, I don't want to stop.” He tried to repress another yawn, which ended up resulting in him making a weird, almost comical gesture. It was kind of cute. 

Yuuri smiled. “We’ll continue another time,” he gently pushed Victor back, “I won't be able to become World Champion if my coach falls asleep at practice.”

“You're not allowed to say that until you manage to wake up before me just once,” Victor retorted, but he got up. “Come on, Makkachin, bed time.” He made a gesture, and the dog promptly hopped off the couch and followed him. “We’re going to bed, but we can do some more kissing and touching before we fall asleep, right Yuuri?”

“Sure,” Yuuri replied, and he meant it, except Victor fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed. Chuckling, Yuuri reached to switch off the light and turned on his side to pull Victor in a embrace from behind. He was just a little bit frustrated, but tired enough that it didn't last long. “Goodnight, Vitya,” he murmured, burying his face between Victor's shoulder blades.

 

_Day 14: January 9th_

Waking up was still hard, but Yuuri was starting to get used to the morning darkness. Victor’s liveliness from an early hour, which had irritated him the previous days, now was invigorating. In fact, it amused him that Victor could be so active in the mornings when every night after dinner he was barely able to stand up without dozing off.

“Come on Yuuri, two more kilometers left!” He cheered, trotting just a little ahead of him. Yuuri didn’t think he would ever enjoy this as much as Victor seemed to, but at least he was learning to not hate it. Now that he was more alert, he was starting to appreciate the chance to observe St. Petersburg as it awoke. It was a beautiful city, with an architectural style radically different from the places where Yuuri had lived before. Victor had told him the city was full of color during the long days of summer, but in winter white was the predominant hue. In Yuuri's opinion, that didn’t take away any of its beauty. Snow covered Detroit quite often in winter, and even Hasetsu got some from time to time, but while in those towns Yuuri considered it mostly just impractical, it conferred an almost magical aura on St. Petersburg. Witnessing the mighty Neva River completely frozen was enough to take his breath away. He still couldn’t call the city his home, but he certainly understood the pride in Victor’s voice when he told Yuuri about all the different streets and buildings. It was a strange city where he didn’t belong to yet, but a beautiful one.

As they ran, he paid attention to the stores they passed, making an effort to read the signs. Even if he couldn't understand what the words meant, at the very least it was a way to force himself to read fast. Besides, he could take a guess about the nature of the store thanks to the window display, and ask Victor later if he had any doubts. It proved to be a good exercise to help improve both his reading skills and his vocabulary, and it allowed him to notice a very peculiar thing.

“Vitya, at what time do flower shops open in Russia?” He finally commented one day, “The one two blocks from here always seems to be open, even at 7 in the morning.”

“Oh, that one’s open 24 hours,” Victor replied nonchalantly while preparing his brand of high-protein, high-energy, low-fat breakfast.

Yuuri, who was setting the dishes, stopped mid-motion. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Victor shrugged, “that’s the way some flower shops work but I’ve never stopped to think about it.”

“But who needs flowers in the middle of the night?” Yuuri had been raised in Japan, of course he understood the concept of convenience stores that never closed, but those sold mainly groceries, premade food, toiletries and similar goods, the kind of things one would need with urgency. But flowers?

“Hopeless romantics?” Victor suggested, serving the half-boiled eggs, “I think it’s nice! You never know when you’ll need to surprise a special someone,”

“Please don’t ever wake me up at 3 am just to give me flowers,” Yuuri warned, only half joking. He guessed it could indeed count as a romantic surprise, although an impractical one. Yes, before living with Victor he was used to going to bed quite late, but once he was asleep he didn’t appreciate being woken up unless it was for an important reason, and in general flowers were not.

“Sometimes you’re no fun, Yuuri,” Victor pouted. He finished pouring the coffee and took a sit in front of Yuuri. “Okay, let’s eat!”

While munching on the food, Yuuri kept reflecting on the flower shops. He thought he had adapted quite well to the lifestyle in St. Petersburg, and the culture shock wasn’t as big as he had expected, but the fact that Russians seemingly needed to be able to buy flowers at any moment of the day was something he didn’t think he could ever come to fully understand.

 

_Day 16: January 11th_

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Yuuri had Russian classes late in the afternoon at a school close to the rink, which allowed him to stay and watch team Yakov’s practice for a while before he needed to leave. If someone had told Yuuri a year before that he would be able to stand there watching some of the best skaters in the country - and the whole world - practicing their routines he would have thought they were crazy; and yet, now it felt completely natural to just be there, observing while he reviewed his Russian notes.

There was so much he could learn just from observing. Georgi was diligent and receptive to both advice and critiques, but he didn’t lack originality, not the courage to bet on what he believed was right for him, no matter what the judges thought. Mila, the reigning female National Champion, had a completely different style from Yuuri himself; she chose bold, modern songs to create expressive and fierce programs. Watching her, Yuuri could see how she influenced Yurio’s own style. On his good days, the current GPF gold medalist and National Russian Champion on the Men’s division was almost technically perfect, even if he still needed to work on his stamina and expressivity.

And Victor…. He was as exigent with himself as he was with Yuuri. Europeans were just around the corner and he was motivated, in a way that Yuuri hadn’t seen him be as a coach.

“I’m not really sure that I can win,” he had commented once, “have you seen Yurio's Agape the past few days? I don’t know if I could do it better.” If Yuuri had been the one making that comment, it would have been an anxious and self-deprecating one, but Victor seemed genuinely happy as he spoke. There was a light in his eyes akin to the one that, until now, Yuuri had only seen while they were training together in Hasetsu, or as he was saying his last words before Yuuri took his starting position on the ice at competitions. It was still present whenever he looked at Yuuri, a mix of pride and adoration, but now his eyes shined when he talked about himself or his competitors, in a similar yet completely different way. It was admiration towards his rivals, yes, but also motivation to keep fighting, growing. Yuuri had watched all of Victor performances, both in minor and major competitions, and even in shows thanks to fans recordings, but he had never seen him like that. He was less refined, but more focused, and he was free.Victor had always been an excellent performer and a great actor, but now he was skating just as himself, and he was brilliant. It was impossible not to get inspired watching him. Yuuri wanted nothing more than standing on a podium together, side by side.

 

_Day 19: January 14th_

Just as they were in the queue to buy the tickets, Yuuri realized this was the first time he went to the cinema with Victor. It wasn’t like he often went to the cinema, since he preferred watching movies more comfortably at home, but it just dawned on him that he had never gone with Victor, despite it being such a typical thing to do for a couple. In fact, they rarely went on proper dates, at most they just ate together at a restaurant after practice or did tourism during a competition. After all, their relationship hadn’t become full on romantic after the Cup on China in the middle of the competitive season a couple of months ago, and they were always busy with practice. It was hard to find the time for dates.

Today, however, they didn't have training the next day, so Victor had suggested having dinner out and going to the cinema on the evening, for a change of pace. It was nice, wearing something other that training clothes and going out just for the sake of it. Victor seemed to be in a good mood as well, as his smile hadn't faded the whole time while they had their dinner. He had carefully chosen delicious dishes that didn't break their dietary restrictions too much, and at the cinema he bought a big serving of a diet soft drink to share between the two of them.

The movie, Yuuri’s pick, was a small production Russian historical drama. He had read some good reviews, but majorly he had chosen it because all sessions were in Russian without subtitles, so it seemed like a good way to improve his auditive comprehension. After all, according to what he had seen in the trailer, it looked like the movie used a lot of formal, textbook language rather than modern slang, so it would be easier for him to understand.

He hadn’t been wrong about that; the vocabulary and grammatical forms were all familiar to him so at least he was understanding some of the dialogues. The plot, however, was a mess. There were way too many characters, and Yuuri had no clue who was who or what they wanted. Apparently, the young master was engaged to a pretty lady but he was in love with the maid? He was pretty sure two of the characters were siblings but then they started kissing very passionately and now he didn’t really know anymore. Still, he was determined to pay attention and understand and much as he could, that was why he was there anyway. However, Victor seemed to have other plans, judging by the hand he was running up and down Yuuri’s thigh.

“This movie is so boring,” he whispered in Yuuri’s ear, dragging the syllables, “I’m picking next time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yuuri answered absentmindedly, and took Victor’s hand in his to stop the caresses. Holding hands was less distracting.

Perhaps taking the gesture as a green light to continue with the affection, Victor leaned in to leave small kisses on Yuuri’s neck, his thumb making circles on the back of Yuuri’s hand.

“Vitya, you’re tickling me.” Yuuri shifted to break apart a little. That didn’t discouraged Victor, who moved on from soft pecks to nibbling on his earlobe. “Stop,” Yuuri insisted, trying to sound firm but failing to repress a breathy giggle, “not here, we’re in public.”

“Nobody is looking at us,” Victor rebutted. He was right, the cinema was almost empty and they were seated in the second to last row, with nobody behind who could see them. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything too scandalous,” he teased.

Yuuri chuckled, “I want to watch the movie," 

Victor snorted, as if the idea of actively wanting to continue looking at the screen was hilarious, “It’s terrible, you won’t miss anything,” Victor hand resumed its motion along Yuuri’s leg, getting a little bit closer to his crotch with every sweep. It was very tempting and the movie was indeed boring, but he felt like giving in was just being lazy. He had decided himself to come to Russia for his own selfish reasons, the least he could do was making an effort to understand the language. He couldn't keep inconveniencing everyone.

“Stop, Vitya, I’m watching the movie,” he whispered, wiggling a little. Victor leaned in to kiss him, his lips half open and tempting, and Yuuri needed to gather all his willpower to stop him. “Victor, stop!” He repeated, louder than he intended. Victor froze in his tracks.

“Sorry,” Yuuri noticed how his body tensed, but his voice was soft, almost vulnerable, “I didn’t realize I was bothering you.”

“You were not…” Someone on the front rows hushed him loudly, and Yuuri bit his lip. The cinema wasn’t really the best place to have this argument. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered, taking Victor’s hand. Victor gave it a little squeeze, but he leaned on the opposite side of his seat and stayed there for the rest of the movie. Yuuri tried to pay attention, but the words mixed up. He was too distracted by the sudden tension created between them and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Things didn’t improve much on the way back to their apartment. Victor acted normal, but Yuuri could tell there was something off. He knew they needed to talk things over, but he didn’t want to argue in the subway so he waited for some very long and uncomfortable 20 minutes until they arrived home and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Vitya, are you okay?” He asked as soon as they crossed the door, closing it behind him.

“Hmm, yes,” Victor replied, crouching down to pet Makkachin - who had rushed to greet them - and gave Yuuri a smile that almost seemed sincere.

“I’m sorry about the cinema,” Yuuri said, taking a deep breath.

Victor frowned. “Why are you apologizing?” He stood up, looking at Yuuri, “I shouldn’t have been so pushy, it’s ok.”

“That’s not it,” Victor was misunderstanding it, “it didn’t bother me, it was just distracting.”

“Distracting?”

Yuuri nodded, “You weren’t letting me focus on the movie,” he admitted. He still got embarrassed talking about the effect Victor had on him if they weren’t in a sexual context; it was silly at that point of their relationship but he couldn't help it. Being in a relationship was new to him. 

“Yeah, that was the plan,” Victor said, winking. He sat down on the couch, Makkachin following suit to rest by his feet. 

“I know,” Yuuri joined them, “but I really wanted to watch the movie.”

“You don’t have to make excuses if you just weren’t in the mood,” Victor’s voice was cheerful and nonchalant, but the tension of before still remained in his posture. He was sitting with his knees up to his chest, turned slightly on his side as if to avoid looking at Yuuri.

“I’m not making excuses,” he asserted.

Probably catching the irritation in his voice, Victor turned to look at him in the eye. “Well, I know you didn’t like the movie either, you were obviously bored.”

“I just wanted to listen to the dialogues,” he explained, “my teacher says I’m much better at reading than listening, so I wanted to see how much I could understand.”

"I know, you’ve been studying Russian all the time since you came here,” Victor observed. His hair was covering his eyes making it hard to read his expression, but Yuuri didn’t miss the tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Does it bother you that I’m learning Russian?” he asked, perplexed. Victor always helped him enthusiastically whenever Yuuri had doubts.

“What? Of course not!” Victor replied, looking equally surprised. “It makes me happy,”

“Then what is the problem?” Yuuri was starting to get annoyed; what were they even arguing about?

“The problem is that you’re always studying!” Victor exploded, “and we never… We’re alone but it feels like we have less intimacy than when we were living at your parents’.” He was looking at Yuuri in the eye, everything in his expression making obvious that he was hurt. Suddenly, Yuuri remembered the night before the Free Skating at Barcelona, barely a month ago, and he felt was lost as he had been back then when Victor had started crying.

“So you want more sex?” he asked, blinking.

“No! It’s not that,” Victor retorted, “it's just… Are you avoiding me, Yuuri?”

“Huh?” Yuuri snapped, “where do you get that from?”

“Because you always want to study, and you never initiate anything.” What Victor was saying was truthful to Yuuri's behavior since he moved to St. Petersburg, and Yuuri understood how he could have misinterpreted him, but Victor was so wrong.  

“You’ve been very tired, so…” Yuuri trailed off, not sure how to explain that he hadn’t tried to start anything the past couple of weeks because he thought it was Victor who wouldn’t be in the mood. He suddenly felt stupid. Fortunately, Victor had gotten better at reading him. He closed the distance between them and touched Yuuri’s cheek lightly.

“I know you're worried about me,” he said softly, “and that makes me happy, but I can't help feeling frustrated as well. Not with you,” he quickly clarified, “with myself for being so tired whenever we get to be alone.” Yuuri nodded. Victor was still trying to catch up with the level he had before the break and Yuuri understood how hard it was for him to come to terms with the fact that his body didn't react as well as it used to. “That’s why at the cinema I wanted to make up for it, and at first, I thought you were into it too, but I guess I overdid it."

Yuuri shook his head. "No, I was into it. But we’ll be living here until you retire for good,” Yuuri continued, “so I want to do my best to understand the language. I don’t want you to have to go with me everywhere, I don’t want to be a burden.”  

“Yuuri, my sun, the love of my life,” Victor put an arm around him, tenderly, “was I a burden to you when we were in Japan and I couldn’t read a single sign?”

“Of course not,” Yuuri replied without a second thought, earning a beaming smile from Victor. He instantly understood what Victor was trying to make him see. “I know you don’t think I’m a burden,” he said, “I just…”

“I know,” Victor pulled him close, his hand slowly caressing the nape of Yuuri’s neck. There was a short silence until he spoke again. “I had never lived with a partner before,” Victor confessed, in a low voice, “so I didn’t know what to expect, I thought it would be all more…” he made a gesture with his hand, as if searching for the right word, “lovey-dovey. But everything’s more or less the same, except my cooking isn’t as good as Hiroko’s.”

Yuuri laughed softly at the joke, then took a deep breath. “I’m scared of things changing too fast,” he confessed, “I like the way we are." 

"I like it too,” he kissed Yuuri on the head, “and do I want to go at your pace. Am I too clingy, Yuuri?

Yuuri straightened so he could properly look at Victor. “You are fine the way you are, Vitya,” he said in Russian, slowly, trying his best to pronounce everything clearly. Victor’s face brightened. 

“Thank you,” he replied, in Russian as well, and then “I love you.” He hugged Yuuri. “I love you,” he repeated, this time in Japanese.

“I love you too,” he kissed Victor slowly, wrapping both arms loosely around his neck.

“Je t’aime,” Victor whispered against Yuuri’s lips, “wo ai ni, ti amo,” he kept saying between kisses, “te quiero,” he paused, frowning, “I have run out of languages.”

“Can you even speak Chinese or Spanish?” Yuuri laughed, and let Victor gently push so he was lying on the couch, Victor kneeling above him.

“I spent two weeks in Majorca with Chris a couple of years ago,” Victor informed, leaving a kiss on Yuuri’s abdomen, “but I only learned a few words,” he looked at Yuuri, and winked playfully, “eres muy guapo,” he said slowly, in what seemed like a terrible accent even to Yuuri, whose knowledge of Spanish was limited to “hola” and “gracias”. They both laughed together, their bodies shaking in unison. “We’re both a little bit dumb, aren't we, Yuuri?” Victor murmured after a while, stretching so he was lying beside Yuuri, their bodies comfortably pressed together.

“Hmm,” Yuuri closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness. He wrapped an arm around Victor’s waist, burying his face in Victor’s chest to give him better access to his neck. Victor quickly took the hint, nuzzling against it and softly kissing the exposed skin.

“You know, I’m not very tired today,” Victor said after a while, sliding his leg between Yuuri’s, his thigh pressing just right against Yuuri’s crotch. “And tomorrow is our free day, so as your coach, I’ll allow you to go to bed late today and sleep in tomorrow morning.”

“How nice of you,” Yuuri purred, giving Victor’s butt a light squeeze.

“But you’ll have to exercise a bit before sleeping.” Victor sucked on Yuuri's lower lip. Yuuri moved his hips so he would be rubbing himself against Victor's leg, deliberately, just to make him feel Yuuri’s desire.

“Coach’s orders?”

“Coach’s orders,” Victor got up slowly, pulling Yuuri with him, “and you won’t disobey your coach, will you?”

“Hmm, it depends on how nicely he asks,” Yuuri yanked the front of Victor’s sweater, dragging him into a deep, long kiss. They looked into each other’s eyes when it ended, feeling breathless, and started giggling for no reason.

Victor spanked Yuuri’s butt before he started running towards their bedroom. “Race you to the bed!" 

Still laughing, Yuuri followed him.

 

_Day 20: January 15_

Victor always woke up five minutes before the alarm rang, so when he opened his eyes that morning, he turned to his side and closed them again, waiting for the familiar beeping sound. It never came. Victor opened his eyes once more, slowly. Right, it was Sunday, and Sundays were his day off. He wiggled to get closer to Yuuri and wake him up as he did every morning, except Yuuri wasn’t there, only Makkachin. How odd. 

“Good morning, Makkachin,” he yawned, “it seems like we overslept, huh? Maybe we’re getting old if our resident Sleeping Beauty got up before us.” Makkachin put his head in Victor’s lap to ask for attention, so Victor obliged happily, petting him thoroughly before getting off the bed. 

He stretched and put on some underwear before going to the kitchen, where he found the most beautiful man in the universe making breakfast.

He immediately noticed two things: First, Yuuri was only wearing boxers and one of Victor’s old t-shirts, that was just a little too big on him so it fell on the side revealing his shoulder. And second, there was an impressive flower bouquet on the table. Yuuri must have bought it, which meant he had gotten dressed, came back and undressed again so he would be half naked and looking sexy when Victor woke up. It seemed like someone wasn’t entirely satisfied, even after the previous night!

“Good morning, Vitya,” Yuuri greeted upon hearing him enter, turning just a little to look at him, “did you sleep well?” 

“It wasn’t too bad until I woke up without the love of my life by my side.” Victor faked a pout and went to kiss Yuuri on the cheek. His morning stubble brushed Yuuri on the cheek, making him giggle.

“So, what are the flowers for?” Victor asked, getting closer to appreciate them better. Oh, they smelled lovely.

“Someone told me Russians like romantic surprises at any time of the day,” Yuuri said, and gave him a playful wink, “and it so happens that we have a 24 hour shop close to our apartment, so…do you like them?” 

“I love them!” He held the bouquet, careful not to damage the flowers, “I’ll have to find a proper vase for them,”

“You can do it after breakfast,” Yuuri suggested, serving the coffee. Victor observed him as he continued setting the table.

“You know Yuuri, you said ‘ours’,” he commented softly.

“Oh?” Yuuri asked, without turning around.

“When you were talking about buying the flowers,” Victor explained, “you said ‘our apartment’, not mine but ours.”

“Oh, I guess I did,” Yuuri admitted, a blush covering his cheeks.

Victor felt so happy it seemed physically impossible not to smile. Part of him wanted to go out and scream about how much he loved Yuuri for everyone to hear, and another felt capable of landing a quad axel right now. “Thank you for not retiring,” he said instead, “and for coming here with me." 

“I’m the one who’s grateful,” Yuuri said. He sat down in the chair opposite to Victor’s and reached for his hand. “You’re doing so much for me... that’s what the flowers are for.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it. “It’s my pleasure, Yuuri.” And it was. Yuuri had brought color into his life, had given him everything that he never knew he needed.

Maybe their life together wasn’t exactly what he had expected, but it was perfect. How couldn’t it be, when he was with Yuuri? They had each other, they could figure out everything else little by little. They had the rest of their lives for that, after all.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I appreciate all kinds of feedback, and if I got something wrong culturally wise or regarding the city, please do tell me and I will correct it.
> 
> For those of you who are reading my WIP Accidentally on Marriage, I haven't updated lately bc I was busy with this fic, but I promise chapter 5 is on the works, thank you for your patience.


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